


How To Survive Middle School

by hunterishere



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Chill - Ned Vizinni
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Middle School, Pre-Canon, boyf riends if you squint, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 01:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20126827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunterishere/pseuds/hunterishere
Summary: Jeremy and Michael both have a rough middle school experience, but talking to each other is difficult.





	How To Survive Middle School

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warning! there is self harm in this story! proceed with caution and stay safe!

Jeremy  
It is commonly known that middle school sucks. My mom always says that middle school is worse than high school. I guess I’ll have to wait and see if that stands up, but I really, really hope she’s right. I’m only in the seventh grade and I absolutely cannot bear this anymore. If I didn’t have Michael, I don’t think I’d even show up to class half the time. I never have enough energy to talk to anyone else.  
Constant torment will do that to you. It’s not like I’d never been bullied before. I’m weird and scrawny and stutter, people have always used me as their target. Madeline has been whispering lies behind my back since we were 7, and Jake has always been waiting around a corner to jump scare me. And ok, yeah, that may have left some lasting negativity in my life, but it wasn’t too much to bottle. There was always more room. I think some combination of hormones and sudden change is what broke me. Maybe that’s what broke them too…  
Ever since we all started middle school, it’s been worse. A lot worse. Everywhere I go, someone is there to remind me just how worthless I am. Annoying, stupid, ugly, freak. Don’t they realize I already knew all of that? Recently my bottle has overflowed. It’s like my classmates found a switch labelled mean in their brains, and flipped it to on. I must have been made in a different factory, because my switch says sensitive and there is no way to turn it off.  
As much as I love to pity myself, I have to recognize some people do have it worse. I have Michael. He serves as a kind of shield for me. He’s generally more likeable, more outgoing, more funny. These qualities are why I love having him around so much, so I can’t blame others for admiring him too. He tends to charm bullies away with jokes and that blinding smile. Sometimes I think he knows what he’s doing, that he wants to protect me. Michael isn’t the type to start a fight, with anyone, ever. I keep thinking he might be trying to kill them with kindness. But other times he seems almost… oblivious. It’s as if he doesn’t even notice their relentless cruelty towards his best friend. We never talk about it, so there’s no way to tell.  
Our conversations have always stuck to lighter topics. I know I could talk to Michael about anything and everything if I wanted to. He’s a great listener and gives amazing advice. But he’s always so upbeat and his laugh is contagious, I’d never do anything to make that smile waver. Besides, having Michael around is enough to make me forget about all the bad things, even if I don’t talk about it.  
That’s why I’m always so thankful to have him by my side. Literally, standing next to me as I rummage through my locker.  
“I c-can’t find my gym u-uniform” my voice cracks on the last word. My throat is filled with panic and puberty. Michael looks up from his phone to see the absolute wreck of my locker. “Jesus! When was the last time you found anything in there?” he jokes. I’m squatting on the linoleum floor as I dig through piles of assignments and sweaters and sandwiches. I turn my head and look up at him, ready to be angry about a joking comment in a time of crisis. But when my eyes meet his, he has his stupid smirk on, and he’s staring with awe into my storm of belongings.  
“This deserves a toxic waste warning”, his voice suggests he’s impressed rather than disgusted.  
“Thanks but this- this i-isn’t a time for flattery. T minus t-two minutes until the bell rings and my clothes are no- nowhere to be seen!” I want to stay as lighthearted as my best friend, but there’s an extra bite to my voice that I can’t help.  
“Bro, it’s probably hidden behind yesterday’s lunch or something” Michael responds, more seriously.  
“Can you help me look?” I plead. I know I sound pathetic, but nothing is worse than showing up to PE empty handed. Michael lets out a forgiving sigh and leans over me to check under and around the clutter. I step aside to give him full access of my locker, which ends up leaving me in the awkward position of having nothing to do.  
I lean my back against the cool metal, trying my best to look casual. It’s then that I notice all of the kids scrambling to their classes. There are friends sharing secrets, there are loners keeping their head low, there are couples holding hands, there are lockers swinging closed. If I close my eyes, all of the noise starts to sound like music. The chattering of voices, scuffing of shoes, clanging of metal, it all works together to make something resembling a song.  
A hard knock against my shoulder rips me out of my trance. “Watch out dumbass” someone mutters as they whiz past me. I hear Michael throw a sincere “Sorry!” after them, and then he’s saying my name.  
“Jeremy, you managed to shove it in pretty deep -- that’s what she said,” he pauses to let out a tiny giggle, “but I’ve retrieved your uniform from the depths of this wasteland!” Michael presents the bland uniform proudly, like it’s the sword from The Sword in the Stone. “And maybe next time we can be careful not to take up so much hallway space with our adventures”, see? Oblivious! That guy totally got in our way on purpose.  
A monotone beep rings out from the speakers in the ceiling, letting us know we’re late.  
“Shit! I gotta run, I have to copy someone's homework answers before Ms. G collects it. Good luck in gym”, one fist bump and he’s already halfway down the now empty hall.

Entering the boys locker room is like walking into a wall of axe body spray. The lights are more yellow in here than in the rest of the school, making it feel dirtier than it already is. I make my way back towards the showers, careful to avoid eye contact. Camouflage is the most important survival technique for getting through PE. If you go unnoticed, no one steals your clothes, no one picks you as the head of their team, no one questions the scars on your thighs, no one hears you stutter, and-  
“Yo! Retard!”  
I ignore the slur and continue putting one foot in front of another.  
“Look at me when I talk to you!”  
Just a few more feet and I can close myself behind a shower curtain.  
“Jeremy!”  
My reflexes get the better of me and I spin around to see yet another fan of mine. I immediately regret it. I’ve taken off my camouflage and now I’m left to fight with no shield.  
“You deaf?” he asks, much louder than necessary. I look at the ground and mutter out a quiet “No”.  
“Then you best not disrespect me like that” he steps closer and I don’t know what to do. I can feel the pressure building inside of me.  
“You passed your gym locker,” he says. I keep my eyes glued to the floor. He steps even closer to me, definitely invading my personal space.  
“You going back there to change behind a curtain? Like a pussy?” he asks. I’ve never been more interested in my shoelaces.  
“Only fairies change back there” he spits. I decide that now is not the moment to point out the irony of that statement. I mean, what’s your goal? Do you want to see me in my underwear? That definitely screams “homosexual” to me.  
“What are you? A fag?” he opens his mouth to say something else, but our teacher comes round the bend, cutting him short. My tormenter quickly turns around and finds his friends to laugh with as they exit into the gym.  
“Heere! You’re not changed yet?!” the teacher shouts. I feel the pressure become too much, and the cap of my bottle threatens to be popped off. Of course I’m the one in trouble.  
“S-sorry, I c-c-came in late. I’m… I’m changing now”, I hurry to the closest shower, and conceal myself with the curtain. Just breathe, I think, Just make it through this period and you’ll be okay.

Surprisingly, I survive gym. I make it through the rest of the class without an incident. I’m telling you: camouflage. If staying in the background wasn’t necessary for my safety, I might actually like to go a little more noticed. Right now, I’m more focused on surviving than I am on my social life. I manage to calm down enough to ensure that no exploding will happen from my bottle. At least, not today.

Michael  
So much has been going on in my head lately. I’m only thirteen years old, and I was under the impression that thirteen year olds don’t have too much to worry about. I was wrong. I can feel my best friend pulling away from me and I don’t know how to stop it. I just know he’s hiding something, he’s struggling and I don’t know how to help. We’ve always been best friends, neither of us know how to function alone. He doesn’t talk to me even though he knows he can. I wish I could see what was going on inside his head. I wish I could help.  
On top of that, my grades first semester were unacceptable according to my moms. It’s like I get home and I have no energy left from the school day to do even more work. I usually pass my time playing vintage video games to clear my mind. These last few weeks that hasn’t been working, especially with my parents nagging me about school. I wish they would understand that I’m trying my best. All they see is a list of 0s in my gradebook, they don’t see me staring at a textbook for ages, retaining exactly no information.  
So, here I am, standing next to Jeremy and frantically studying khan academy on my phone. If anyone is gracious enough to let me copy their homework, and I pass this quiz, I just might be able to catch a passing grade. I’m so deep in thought I don’t even notice the pure anxiety radiating off of Jeremy. He’s pleading for my help, and how am I supposed to say no? He looks so defeated, like a tiny puppy dog abandoned by its mother.  
I truly don’t know how Jeremy even managed to make such a colossal mess in such a small space. I envy his talent for completely hiding things wherever he goes. (Seriously, where is his gym uniform??). Maybe it would help me hide some things from my moms. It only now occurs to me that Jeremy is using those same skills to shut me out. I’m trying not to worry.  
I spot our school colors behind an old science project, and I go reaching for it. Just as my hand lands on the soft fabric, someone familiar zooms past us, nearly knocking jeremy over. I’m pretty sure he called us dumbasses, but I was too focused on my victory to take it to heart. I stand up to present the accomplishment, but the look on Jeremy’s face is downright heartbreaking. I would try everything to make him happy. Unfortunately, I can’t afford to miss too much of my next class. I throw him a silly joke and a fist bump, hoping it’ll calm his nerves, and run.  
I’m not the most unnoticeable guy in the world, with my oversized bright red hoodie, cool ass sneakers, and big headphones, so sneaking into class unnoticed is pretty much impossible. Luckily, Ms. G loves me and I compliment my way out of a punishment. If only I could compliment my way out of a failing grade…  
I learn that the girl sitting next to me is named Christine, and she is very nice, and very smart, and lets me copy her homework. She even offered to tutor me but I’d rather not pay someone to tell me I’m an idiot. She also started badgering me about the school play. You help sound crew once and apparently they want you on their team forever. Christine talks a lot for such a tiny lady. It’s a nice change from carrying every conversation I have with Jeremy.  
Suddenly she stops her ramblings and I realize the quiz is being passed out. I take one look at it and realize I am absolutely screwed. Khan academy can only help you so much, I guess. I make a mental note to study for a retake, knowing I won’t follow through. I try my best to finish the quiz, earning a whopping 4/15 (Thank you peer grading! No one is embarrassed here!).  
I shove the failed quiz into my folder, wishing I could redo the last hour. I’m all set to walk the hell out of this classroom and find comfort in Jeremy, but Ms. G asks me to stay. Quickly, I paint on my nonchalant smile, and turn around to face my teacher.  
“I know you’ve been stressed about your grades...” she pauses.  
“Yeah, math has just never been my strong suit,” I say. I say it mostly to fill the empty air, but I add a smile as if to say I’ll get back on track! My grade will rise up to an A in no time! I’m honestly not even worried about it! Of course it’s all lies. No one knows how often my smiles are made of lies.  
“I usually tell students in your position to find a tutor, but you seem like such a wise, capable young man. You shouldn’t have too much trouble picking this stuff up! And I am also aware of your families, er, financial situation”, great, she’s calling me dumb and poor all in the same breath.  
“So, I thought I would assign you some extra credit instead. Just a packet or two, and you can email me with any questions!” she finishes. Her tone is cheery but her actions make her evil. I want to say no. I want to say that I’m practically drowning in all the work I’m missing. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to catch up if I have to do extra credit too. What about all my other classes Ms. G? Reluctantly, I take the packet she’s handing me and flash a “thank you” to her. I need to find Jeremy. 

Jeremy  
I can’t stand the cafeteria. Unlike the hallway, this noise is nothing like music. This noise is a lion's roar, a warning to the prey. It’s loud and filled with people who have a place. Me and Michael, we don’t have a place. We make our own place. We sit on the outskirts of the cafeteria, at a table that’s almost empty, except for a foreign exchange student who sits at the other end. I’ve already gone through the lunch line, and Michael is nowhere to be seen. Usually, I would come out of the lunch line to find him eating his packed lunch at our table. Always pb&j. Consistent.  
It feels wrong to eat without him. It feels wrong to sit here without him too, but I have nowhere else to go. I sit and stare at my cold, mushy food, wishing for my friend to appear. At some point, my mind wanders. I find myself replaying the words of that bully before PE. What are you? A fag? I have enough questioning to do without anyone on my case about it. Every thirteen year old has confusing feelings, right? Right?  
Whenever I’m left alone, my thoughts spiral into this unintelligible mess. Where is Michael? The exchange student is starting to make awkward eye contact with me. Just as I feel the pressure build again, and I’m about to lose hope, I see him. He swaggers through the cafeteria with confidence. Seeing him puts a smile on my face.  
“Sorry I’m late, Ms. G had to talk to me after class. Have you ever noticed that the birthmark on her face looks like a chicken?” He laughs. His voice dissolves the pressure inside of me.  
“No! Really?” I respond. I’ve never had Ms. G, and frankly, I don’t care, but hearing Michael talk to me like normal makes me feel okay.  
“Yes! And when she talks, it wiggles like it’s walking” we’re both dissolved into a fit of laughter and it feels good. It feels really good. By the time we’ve calmed down, I’ve regained my appetite. I start to eat as I realize Michael is saying something new.  
“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something…” he sounds almost nervous, which is not an emotion I’m used to seeing on him. Michael being nervous is like a housecat who loves to swim.  
“Do you want to come over after school?” the hint of nervousness is gone. It was probably never there to begin with. “We can play apocalypse of the damned, but mostly I kind of need your help with math,” he says.  
“Of co- course dude. I’ll ride the bus h-home with you,” I answer. I’m glad to have the distraction. I don’t want to be left alone with these thoughts for too long.  
I’m digging into a mysterious meat dish when I feel someone smack the back of my head. I turn around to find the culprit, and Michael is already smacking them back. He does it so playfully, it’s as if they’re “bros”. I’ll never understand Michael.

We’re walking from the bus stop to his house and I notice him playing with the sleeves of his hoodie. Even when he’s fidgeting he looks completely chill. I’ll never be as cool as him. I realize it’s been silent for a few minutes so I speak up.  
“So… You’re hav- you’re having trouble with m-math?” I ask.  
“Uhh, I guess, yeah” he says. It’s not his usual, carefree tone. Before I have a chance to question it we’ve reached the Mell abode and he’s busy putting his key in the door. By the time we make it to his basement bedroom, he’s filling me in on the newest level of apocalypse of the damned. I take the player two controller and fight zombies for hours. We never did end up studying.

Michael

I feel like I’m about to cry as I enter the cafeteria. So much schoolwork. So much to do. And then there’s Jeremy, sitting there, looking like someone just died. I spot him before he spots me. It’s time to put on a brave face I think to myself. I’m always putting on faces, covering so much up. This is for Jeremy. He needs to feel better. I may not know what’s going on, but I have to help. It’s my duty as a best friend. Finally, Jeremy sees me and I swear his whole face lights up. It’s hard not to love him when he does that. This time, my smile is genuine. Truthful.  
He looks at me expectantly and I realize he wants to know why I’m late. I would rather talk about anything that’s not math homework right now. I tell him Ms. G needed me and throw in a funny distraction. It’s only partly true. The birthmark is funny, it definitely makes me laugh, but I’m not so sure about the chicken part. Apparently, we’ve both been wound up, because that dumb joke sends us flying into giggletown. I’ll never get tired of laughing with him.  
Just like that, it’s over. Jeremy is eating and it’s quiet and he has this look behind his eyes, like he’s carrying so much weight around with him. It’s true that I want to get math off my mind, but Jeremy is definitely the brains of this duo, and I do need the help. He hasn’t been to my house in ages. I’ve cleared like 3 levels of apocalypse of the damned. And I need to see him smile again.  
“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something…” I don’t even know why my voice is shaking. I just want Jeremy to feel better. And alright, okay, maybe I miss him. Just a little. I want him to stop looking at me with those sad eyes. He’s too young to have that much hurt in his eyes. “Do you want to come over after school? We can play apocalypse of the damned, but mostly I kind of need your help with math,” I’m speaking so fast I’m not even sure he understood me. (I really hate math). He looks content once again, and that’s all I could really ever hope for.

On the bus ride home Jeremy is quiet. That’s nothing new. Jeremy is always quiet. He’s self conscious about his stutter. But this kind of quiet is not shy or awkward. It’s not the comfortable silence we soak up in my basement. This is the kind of quiet that holds so many unspoken words, it’s tangible. I know this quiet. I’ve been in this quiet. I wish I could just look at him and say “talk to me! I want to help!”. I'll let him speak up when he’s comfortable. I just want to help.  
We’re off the bus before Jeremy speaks. He only says a few words but it feels like an ocean of relief. I start talking and I don’t think I stop until I’m biting my lip in concentration, boring my eyes into the tv screen. No depressing silence for us. Just fun. Just comfort. I’ll do anything to make him comfortable.  
There’s one moment. One perfect moment. Jeremy is sleepy after a long afternoon of gaming, only half awake. I lay next to him on my phone, thinking. I say “Jeremy?” to see if he’s awake. He responds with a grunt. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” silence. “I’m always here for you”. I say it because I mean it. Because he needs to let me in. He groans in response. A soft, quiet, beautiful groan. I don’t think he’ll remember it when he wakes up.

Jeremy

It’s well after midnight and I’m still awake. Cruel words circle around my brain relentlessly. My head is pounding. This is the explosion. This is the fizz overflow that comes from being shaken up day after day after day. It makes me crazy. My pillow is wet from tears. Tears that make me feel weak. I need it to stop. The room is spinning so fast, my thoughts come in rapidly, everything is so goddamn loud. I can’t make it stop.  
I know this is a bad habit. I know it’s unhealthy and weird and people spend a long time trying to stop doing exactly this. But it helps. It makes everything seem quiet and peaceful for a little while. Just a little pain. Just a little blood. I don’t do it often. Only when things are really bad. The trouble is, things have been really bad for a while now.  
I’m holding a blade. It would be so easy. One little metal savior, one little addition to my collection of scars. What difference does it make? Who would I disappoint except myself? I’m sitting there in bed, tears streaming down my face, holding a tiny weapon. And suddenly, something happens. I remember Michael. I would be disappointing Michael.  
It’s a ridiculous thought because Michael doesn’t know. Michael will never know as long as I can help it. But Michael is still in my brain. I’d never want to disappoint him…  
He’s probably not up anyway. It’s late. One text won’t hurt. One text and then when he doesn’t answer, I’ll do what I need to do.

Michael

I’m thankful for the small bing my phone makes. Staring at the ceiling is just about the most boring activity I’ve ever experienced. I need a distraction, an excuse to be awake. I’m less thankful when I read the message. Are you up? Once he sees that I’ve read the message, he starts typing again. I need someone.  
Is this the moment I’ve been waiting for? Will Jeremy open up to me tonight? So many questions, but no time to ask.  
I’ll be right there.

Jeremy

I go into an even worse panic, if that’s even possible. I’m full on sweating and trying hard to catch my breath. I never intended for him to come over. Is he sneaking out? Did he tell his moms? What will happen when he gets here?  
Michael wasn’t supposed to be awake. Michael isn’t supposed to know. Images of a disgusted Michael pop into my mind. A Michael that finally realizes how much of a freak I am. He’ll see the parts of me I’ve been trying so desperately to hide. I’ll get what I deserve then, won’t I? He’ll abandon me and things can only get worse from there.  
I’ve already convinced myself that he’ll hate me when my phone vibrates in my hand. I’m here. I stare blankly. He shouldn’t have been able to get here that fast. He must have been running. I respond with: Spare key under the doormat. Matter of fact. I’m okay.  
A moment passes and someone’s tapping softly on my bedroom door. I don’t answer. I’m sitting criss cross-applesauce on my bed. Out of my peripheral vision I see the door open, and Michael step in. I stare intently at my closet ahead of me. I’m okay.  
Michael seems to gather the situation around me-- around us. Silently, he sits down next to me on the bed. I gulp, trying to swallow the uneven breaths. Michael rests his hand on my back, it’s such a simple gesture but makes me feel so safe.  
“Breathe, Jeremy,” it’s almost a whisper. I’m so far into my own head. I just need everything to stop. Michael is saying something again but I don’t listen. I must be crying again, because a salty tear plops softly into my lap. If I could just catch my breath…  
Suddenly, my head is buried in my hands. There’s so much to figure out, so much to think about, so much to do. Too much. I shouldn’t have brought Michael into this. I should be alone right now.  
At some point Michael takes me in a hug, and we sit there for a long while. He lets me cry on his clothes and reminds me to breathe. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Michael is safety. He's the rescue helicopter. The ambulance.

Michael

I don't think I've ever run so fast in my life. One foot in front of another, over and over, until it felt like I was skipping steps. I flew over gardens and driveways, definitely kicking over a gnome or two on my way. I had managed to cut a 20 minute walk into 7, but it was still too long.  
I knew where the spare key was, but I didn't want to sneak up on him. I want him to feel comfortable. Never startling, never jumping, never raising my voice, I made my way here.  
Here with a crying Jeremy in my arms at 2 in the morning. I don't even notice the stain on my shirt until he moves his head. The soaked patch of cloth clings to my collarbone uncomfortably, sagging slightly. I hardly notice.  
“I’m so sorry” he whispers  
“Hey hey hey, you have nothing to apologize for. I will always be here for you”  
“You sh-sh-sh-shouldn't have to be”  
“What do you mean?” that's what I’m here for. I will always be there for Jeremy. It’s not even my choice, the universe has drawn us together and it's my instinct to protect him. A necessity.  
“... you shouldn't h-have to come s-s-save me” I see tears welling up in his eyes again, I just want to make them go away.  
“Come save you?” one tear falls and the streak looks like a war scar. Doesn't he see how strong he is?  
“I was going to do something bad…” I’m completely lost. I search my mind through and through for what he could mean.  
“Something… bad?” his face falls. That's when i see it. One small blade, I hadn't even noticed it coming in. It looks lonely and powerless on his pillow like that. I go to pick it up and as I shift, the moonlight hits in a certain way. It flashes at me, crossed through with the shadow of the blinds. “I’m so sorry” he whimpers. It's lighter between my fingers than I had imagined.  
“Were you going to..” I let the space between us finish my sentence. He stares at his lap and gives me a meek nod of the head. My heart cuts clean in two, right down the middle. I knew Jeremy was going through something, but I never imagined he’d do something like this.  
“Do you do it… regularly?” I feel bad for prying, but I have to know in order to help. He gives me the same nod. I’ve never felt more powerless than I do in this moment. I silently store the blade in my pocket, and return my arms to Jeremys sides.  
“It’s ok, Jer. I’m never gonna leave your side” I tell him. He whimpers softly into my chest. “You’ll be ok”.


End file.
